So I’ve been in India just over two weeks now.

I’ve been more focused on settling in than sightseeing, but I’m sure that will change. Comments about my life in New Delhi so far…

The Traffic My newbie wide eyes are finding the traffic absolutely fascinating. Buses, box trucks (all of them with a different version of “keep distance, use horn please” painted on the back), cars, autorickshaws, motorcycles, bicycle rickshaws, bicycles, and pedestrians all share the road. Sometimes, they careen down the opposite side just for fun (well, more because it is hard to find a place for a U-turn). Chaotic cooperation. I haven’t noticed a choking pollution, but that may change as the weather does.

The jams are just amazing. Once, we had a bus on one side, a car on the other, a car at a right angle in front of us blocked by an autorickshaw, motorcycles at either door asking the driver for a little room to squeeze in front of our car to go past perpendicularly, people threading through, and lots of honking. It seems entirely possible sitting there unmoving for minutes at a time that the traffic is so knotted, it will never untangle and we’ll all have to abandon our cars and walk home. But then, with the help of some people directing traffic (who do not appear to be in uniform, but are, according to my co-worker), things move, spurt by spurt. It took us 25 minutes to cross an intersection. (Probably, later in my stay, this will just seem like an annoyance. But at the moment, I am a gaping traffic jam tourist.)

The Weather The temperature has been pleasant, in the high 60s during the day and chilly, but well above freezing, at night. We had a couple mornings of intensely thick fog which made the commute interesting, shadowy figures materializing out of nowhere and cars using emergency blinkers as fog lights. At the moment, I’m dressing extra conservatively as most books advised, long pants and no low necklines. But I’m sure my resolve will be tested as the temperature goes up (and up and up) over the next few months. The average, yes *average*, high in May is over 103 degrees.

Filtered water dispenser! No more depending on bottles!
(though I’m rapidly running out of counter space…)

Medical Issues I have been extraordinarily lucky. The worst I’ve had so far has been insufficiently frequent bowel movements and a run-of-the-mill cold. I either managed to avoid the worst of the bacteria (I’ve been fairly careful with the water, but have eaten at a couple buffets and a food court) or my immune system is working overtime. I’ve been taking vitamins and a probiotic called Florastor somewhat regularly.

Electrical Issues There are regularly power blips – the power going off and then coming right back on. At work, our computers seem shielded (only the lights go out), but I kinda wonder what will happen if it lasts for longer than a few seconds. Might find out during air conditioner season. Incidentally, the converter plugs I bought at Amazon appear to be working perfectly. I’m charging all my devices fine.

Laundry I’m washing my clothes in a bucket. (I had no trouble finding all sorts of buckets of all sizes.) I’ve also decided to try to conserve water a bit and so, instead of just leaving the shower running while I soap up, I’m using a bucket there, too. Yay for buckets! As for the problem of drying without a dryer, line, or balcony… two very helpful guys at the supermarket dug this metal contraption of the back room. Works perfect!

Drying Laundry

Security This is something I did not expect. To get into the mall, to get into the supermarket, to get onto the Metro, I have to pass through a metal detector and possibly be wanded! By a woman at least. And I suppose this is guaranteeing jobs for low-income women so I can’t complain too much. (Especially since jobs I expected an unskilled woman to have, like my room cleaners and the helpers at a women’s clothing store, are held by men.) Sometimes I have to put my bag through a detector – I don’t like taking my hands off my purse at all – and once I had to get a special piece of paper that indicated that, yes, I brought this 10-year-old camera into the store with me. It’s like everywhere is the airport. Some of it is clearly to prevent theft (like the fact that the number of bags I’m bringing out is written on my receipt) but the reasoning is not particularly clear for the rest.

Incidentally, because there are so many people and so many low-paying jobs, there are also many, many guards. Two at the local ATM, even, which is already indoors.

Safety Nothing of mine has been stolen so far (and you would cringe at what I leave lying around my hotel room.) And the only time a guy did something inappropriate was last night. I made a mistake. Despite being forewarned by a book I read, I answered honestly to the question, “Do you have a husband?” In retrospect, the answer to that question is obviously always, “yes, a big, strong one” if asked by a twenty-something riding shotgun in an autorickshaw. He hit on me the rest of the ride, despite how extremely clear I made it that it was unwelcome (and he knew it, because he apologized and I pretended loudly that I had a husband the rest of the ride). He managed to pat me on the bottom as I got out. I gave him a good yelling before they took off and the guard at the gate was protective. Second moral of the story: no more shotgun riders. Besides that incident, which makes me want to go and buy a fake wedding ring, I’ve felt perfectly safe on the streets, especially if crowded. Safety in numbers. And there are pretty much always numbers.

Prices Guess how much that laundry setup above cost me. You’d think it would not be too expensive, right? Although it is perfect for my needs, it is also not very complicated. But no. The price was approximately $30. Thirty US dollars (or around 1500 rupees). Possibly, someone pulled a price tag switcheroo in the back? But the towel – right on display – cost $8. My store-brand rice cooker cost $30 as well and the cheapest DVD players are still more than at Target. However…

This cost about fifty cents total.

My $4 Nutella is worth it, shut up. Anyway, the rupee bills all have Gandhi’s face on them. The 10-rupee notes are kinda gross but I’m told it is good to keep as many as possible for autorickshaws and the metro because no one wants to give you small change. So I have been keeping them and washing my hands after touching them.

Food The best food I’ve had so far was, unsurprisingly, at my co-worker’s house with his mom. All vegetarian and all delicious. Potatoes, paneer (cheese), peas, lentils, some kind of chickpea salad, all super yum. The food elsewhere has been decent. It usually involves bread (an alternative to a fork) which you tear up and scoop the nearby yummy sauce into. Vegetarians would love it as most menus have equally long “Veg” and “Non-Veg” selections, some restaurants keeping purely “Veg” because there are many traditions that require it. You can apparently get a beef burger at the Hard Rock Cafe (or the American Embassy) but not at the local McDs which, to respect the major religions in the area, does not serve pork or beef.

I expect at some point, I will have a craving for a nice juicy Colorado steak, but I’m still in Eat All The Indian Food mode.

So my co-worker (now forever nicknamed Groom) had his wedding ceremony two nights after his Ring Ceremony. The invitation said that there would be a departure of the Barat, which apparently means the wedding party, from the residence to the celebration hall at about 7:30. So we knew not to even attempt to arrive before 9pm. Really, why do they even put times on the invitation?

Another co-worker (nicknamed Deadpan because he is pretty much always joking with a straight face and I can only tell about half the time) picked me up. I waited outside the gate. And if you think I get stared at in regular clothes… Yeah. Not having a mobile phone yet gives me all sorts of opportunities to stand on display. Anyway, we drove back to his place to wait for his wife who was getting ready. Having a wedding on a work night (but at least a Friday) means that everyone has to get all prettied up after work. For me, that doesn’t mean much, but for the average woman who grooms themselves far better than I, it’s a good thing weddings never start on time.

As we waited in the car, a beggar girl tapped on my window insistently. I just kept looking ahead. Deadpan eventually walked out intending to chase her off when he realized she was tapping because my scarf was caught in the car door (and was dragging a bit in the street.) I opened the door to pull my scarf back in, gave her a wave and he gave her 10 rupees to go buy chocolate (which she actually did). She came back to say bye.

We discovered somewhere on the crowded streets of Delhi that we were right behind Buddy’s car (what are the chances) and so when we got completely lost, it was all together at least. Deadpan said we did it on purpose, so I could see more of the sites of Delhi, you know, like the ITO (Income Tax Office) building.

After some U-turning, we eventually arrived in what looked to be a wedding neighborhood. There were lots of lights and a dude on a white horse, but it wasn’t our dude, so we kept walking. Then we found it. The wedding was in a much bigger, fancier hall than the ring ceremony. A lot more people were present and they were dressed more formally. I think I was a bit underdressed here, but not too much so. Hopefully, people were impressed that the blond girl was in Indian-style clothes at all that they didn’t notice the insufficient bling.

Poofy Pink Pants!
(No, really, this is a style. Google ‘punjabi salwar kameez’ if you want to see.)

So despite that it was pushing 10pm, there was still no sign of the bride or groom. Vinny (my co-worker who gives-a it to me straight and makes-a the calls and does-a the deals) got there a bit later. He said he had trouble finding the right wedding. “I looked at four grooms on four horses, but none of them were right,” he explained. “Just not my night.”

(Aside: Grooms on white horses, arriving at their wedding? I’m as astonished as you are. India is a medieval European fairy tale. Who knew.)

At least the buffet was already open and appetizers abounded. Again, no meat and no alcohol. Though Deadpan’s wife pointed out that, when all the men in our company seem to disappear at once, you can bet there is a side party going on somewhere. (As we chatted while the men were away somewhere, I also discovered that theirs was a love marriage across cultures – S. India and N. India. Romantic!)

The many servers here were decidedly grumpy. If they weren’t staring daggers at you as they served you an appetizer, then they just went through the motions slowly, looking like they wished they were somewhere else. On one hand, this doesn’t particularly surprise me, but on the other hand, the servers at the ring ceremony (doing the same sort of things and up almost as late at night) were friendly enough. Incidentally, the dishes here… could have been cleaned better. But everything tasted well enough.

The Wedding Hall

There was a dance floor, but the only dancing I saw was happening outside when the Barat arrived. Groom was not actually on a horse, but he was in a carriage pulled by two white horses surrounded by a whole herd of people dancing and whooping and having a grand old time. Apparently, they had danced all the way from their place. Among them was LeadingMan and his wife, close friends of Groom. I peeked over the heads outside for a bit, then went back in. It took almost an hour for the groom and his party (literally) to finally make it indoors.

Finally, the bride came down the stairs with so much sparkle on her outfit, I could barely see her through the gleam. She walked very slowly. The groom arrives on a horse. The bride arrives “slowly.” When she reached her groom-to-be at the bottom of the stairs, some people held a flowery roof thing over their head and they walked together up the hall where two large chairs on a platform were awaiting them. Before they sat, they did cute things like put garlands on each other, and at one point, his party even lifted him up in the air, but it was hard to see much more through the crowd of relatives and photographers.

King and Queen
…er, I mean Groom and Bride

I had been wondering when to give my envelope gift as there was no gift table. Deadpan’s wife seemed surprised by the concept that guests would just leave expensive gifts lying about and said instead that I could hand it directly to the groom. We got in line to greet him and have our photo taken. Only a little awkwardly, I handed him my envelope there and that actually worked (especially since he could pass the pile off to his mother in between photo takes.)

They were setting up for the “actual” wedding (the final ceremony, anyway) in the back, which involves the bride and groom walking around a fire seven times. As it was well after 1am and the only promise of when this ceremony would happen was “before dawn” and that usually the only people left by that time were close family, we decided to go ahead and leave.

That didn’t keep people from asking me the next Monday if I stayed for the walking-around-the-fire thing. Of course, it would have been cool to see that, but… dude, that’s late and I’m not my own ride.

We got lost on the way back, too. During the late hours, the Delhi police set up all these barricades on the roads, knocking a four-lane road down to one, for the odd reason of “not letting criminals get away.” Are crime-committing folk often trying to escape Delhi quickly? It makes for post-midnight mini traffic jams. I think the Delhi government just wants to discourage people from ever knowing what it is like to drive down an empty road, ever. ‘Cause then they might move.

There’s a guy on a white horse outside my window right now! (With a drum serenade and lots of people dancing around him!)

It’s fun to live in a serviced apartment / wedding venue! The rumors that it is wedding season in India appear to be true.

Too bad it is dark out or I would totally sneak a photo.

Long entry. Great day!

It was a beautiful Saturday in the 70s. Chris just arrived from the States. A perfect day to check out Delhi… and we even got an unexpected tour out of it!

We took an autorickshaw (everyone calls them “autos” here, so I’m going to call them that the rest of the entry) to Vaishali station. The guard at our hotel gate said the price was 50 rupees ($1) like there was no room to argue so we just went with it. Station was packed. We stood in the long line at the ticket window until we saw the sign that we could buy SmartCards at the Customer Care window behind security. I got in the men’s security line, but was corrected quickly enough by a random dude. We stood at the Customer Care line and I got a 1,000 rupee SmartCard. Considering every ride costs between 30 to 40 cents, I’m thinking $20 should last me some time. Then we put our bags through the machine (yikes, seems like it could be easily snatched, but there is a guard), grabbed them out from the other side and off we went!

The Delhi Metro
(not Do Not Enter)

Photos Taken from the Metro

Connaught Place Delhi has a big circle in the middle of it! The city center is “Connaught Place”, a circular square with concentric roads rippling out from it. The metro station under it, “Rajiv Chowk”, is twelve stops down from Vaishali on the Blue Line. In the station, we stopped at a Cafe Coffee Day (the Starbucks of India as far as I can tell) and it was almost like I was back home. I expected Connaught Place to be crowded and claustrophobic, full of tightly-packed shops and people, but when we surfaced, it was surprisingly spread out with a huge, relaxing park in the middle (that we had to pass through a metal detector to enter).

Chillin’ at C.P.

We wandered out from the park and lots of people stopped to talk to Chris (instead of me; selfish bonus to traveling with a guy) engaging in conversations starting with “Where are you from?” and usually ending with directions to a government emporium shop (where I guess they sell goods at low, no-haggle prices. Like John Elway.) or a tourist information center. One guy was like “don’t go that way, there are only banks that way.” We went that way anyway. There were indeed only banks. But who says I wouldn’t need a bank? One man said he loved America. I love America, too, but that phrase always makes me extra suspicious. One thing I noticed about the center of Delhi – there actually are crosswalks with green ‘walk’ lights. And traffic (mostly) respects it! None of that in my neighborhood.

An autorickshaw circling Connaught Place.
(They all look like this. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.)
Small market we found several blocks from the park.

After we walked a few spokes, we consulted my map. Map meaning 300-page book accurately titled Map of Delhi. And we decided to hail an auto – so easy to do – to India Gate.

From inside the auto, on the way to India Gate

India Gate This was as cool as it looked on TV. Like an Indian Arc de Triomphe. I saw more white people after five minutes wandering around the 100-year-old monument than in my previous three weeks combined. Lots of people there. One group wanted us to be in their photo. I’ve been in stranger’s travel photos, no big deal, but then things got just slightly weird. First both Chris and I were in the photo, then just me. And he wanted me to stand closer to one fellow. Then that fellow reached out his hand as if to shake mine, but didn’t quite let go. Then the man with the camera seemed to be focusing at an odd angle, like perhaps down to the guy’s ring-filled hand. No idea what the harm actually was (maybe he was going to show everyone photos of his new American girlfriend?), but it was adequately unusual that I said it was too weird and we walked off.

At first we were wondering why there were not more beggars, touts, and people selling trinkets… then one found us.

India Gate. Me. Random Guard.

The 2-Rupee Girl So, we were a bit of ways from the Gate when a girl – maybe 7 or 8 – approached us. She had a shoebox filled with little beads with letters on them and embroidery thread. She did not speak much English, but we got the idea that she would make a bracelet with our names for 2 rupees. Four cents. We’ve been generally trying to do as we heard, and not respond to people like this (we earlier ignored the girl at Vaishali station with her hands cupped in front of her, saying “money, money, money” in the cutest voice.) But, dude, 2 rupees.

So she started making the bracelet – a bit of a process as she actually created it right there, knotting the beads in, checking the spelling of our names – and Chris was thinking we should tip her and give her 10 rupees for all this hard work. Only when she finished and Chris handed her 10 rupees she said “No, no, no…”

“It’s 2 rupees a letter!” she started counting out the letters. Then she wrote “100” as the cost of the bracelet on top of that. Hilariously sneaky. I was shaking my head. She was very persistent. Chris gave her another 10 at first, then said never mind and tried to take the money back, but she held those two 10-rupee notes in her hand with a death grip (holding the bracelets in the other hand.) After a lot of back and forth, we finally got the one bracelet for 20 rupees (forty cents). I’m sure she made a profit. Very devious. I’m sure I’d do the same in her shoes, though.

Another girl approached us later with an identical box of beads and identical opening line: “Two rupees, two rupees.” We were like, “Yeah, we’ve heard that before.”

Our Tour Guide! (But we didn’t know it yet.)

Delhi Tour Walking away from the Gate, we saw a cool-looking building in the distance with domes. (You can sort of see it in the above photo.) We decided to head in that direction and see what it was, so we grabbed the first rickshaw on the corner going the same way. The man took us a little ways, then pulled off, turned, and asked where all we were going that day. His English was very good, especially for an auto driver. Auto drivers seem to have very little English beyond greetings and prices. We had no plans other than “exploring Delhi”, so we shrugged. “Not sure yet,” we said. So he pulled out a map and then offered to take us wherever we wanted to go that day, suggesting some places. He looked at Chris, then looked at me, and asked who was in charge. (I loved that!) Chris said I was in charge. I pointed to a couple places I heard were interesting. He nodded and mentioned a couple other places. He said he would take us wherever we wanted and tell us the full price – including everything, like parking – up front, suggesting a four-hour tour.

Although I was still a little disillusioned by the 2-rupee girl, I got a very good vibe off this guy. We picked some places and he told us the price (approximately $25) and he did not ask for anything up front though made sure to remind us that we could give him a good tip if we liked the tour. We agreed and proceeded to have an awesome personal tour of Delhi!

President’s House The cool building turned out to be the president’s house. (India has both a president and a prime minister. But the prime minister has most of the power apparently.) It was not super exciting, except for one thing. One thing not mentioned at all in that Wiki article I linked to.

The monkeys!

President’s House. Ho Hum.

President’s Monkeys! Woo Hoo!

The monkeys were just hanging out on the lawn, occasionally climbing a tree or escaping to a nearby lawn, though generally staying in this one square area. There was no explanation.

Gandhi Smriti On our tour guide’s suggestion, we went to this museum dedicated to Gandhi in the place where he spent his last days before being murdered. It was free (though souvenirs were being sold somewhat persistently in front of the door.) It was a very lovely, peaceful place. We could have read Gandhi’s whole story (in English or Hindi). And followed his final footsteps. And knelt in his prayer spot. Instead, we glanced at the story boards. Followed his footsteps backwards by accident. And took panoramic photos in his prayer spot.

The sign on the right says, “For the last time Gandhiji went to the prayer meeting through this path.”
We found the sign following the footsteps back from the pillar at the Place of Mahatma Gandhi’s Martyrdom.

Mahatma Gandhi’s Prayer Spot
(An excuse to use the panorama setting)

Humayun’s Tomb Tourist time! Gandhi’s spot had a few tourists, but not many. That’s because all the tour buses came to this World Heritage Site instead apparently. A co-worker told me I should check it out, though, so we added it to the itinerary. Our tour guide described it as “Delhi’s Taj.” This is the only place we went with an entrance fee.

Is it more curious that foreigners pay twenty-five times what locals pay?
Or that the original price was clearly scratched out.

On the whole, it was worth the five bucks. The grounds were extensive (we spent quite a while there and did not see it all) and the buildings pretty impressive. This tomb’s style was a pre-cursor to the Taj Mahal.

Not called the Delhi Taj for nothing

Tombs and Shadows
(Not pictured: the 16 people trying to get the same cool shadow shot on the left)

Lunch Break Our tour guide and his autorickshaw were patiently waiting for us when we left the tomb grounds. I told him I was getting hungry. And, not sure whether I should trust an auto driver to choose a place to eat for me, I let him lead on. We ended up at a perfect little spot, a mini shopping center with restaurants. So convenient (and full of touts and beggars) that I wonder if it is the official “tourist stop-for-lunch spot”. There was a snake charmer there (!) and as Chris spent quality time with a cobra or two, a man tried to sell me a fan made of a peacock feather and a book about the Delhi-Agra-Jaipur Golden Triangle.

Our guide recommended “Chicken”, saying it was “clean.” Kind of suspect that this was part of his schpiel. But the only other option I immediately noticed was “Ichiban”, a Japanese/Chinese restaurant that also looked pretty decent. But we’re in India, so we went with the Indian food. And, hey, it is a restaurant called “Chicken”, how can you go wrong? The waiter was polite, friendly, and spoke good English. Yep, definitely a tourist place. The waiter all but insisted I order two dishes which turned out to be too much food, but it did seem like if I was going to a restaurant called “Chicken” then I should at least order some. The food was tasty enough, but I suspect this is the most expensive lunch I will eat here, coming in at $20 for the two of us (and Chris just ordered garlic naan.) Chris discovered that there is no beer served here, or in this area.

Outside the restaurant, a woman with an infant poked me. I had heard about the mother-with-baby beggar type in one of my books (i.e. it is not her baby, just her baby for the day to beg) and tried not to look at her. She eventually gave up. As we got back into the auto, a different woman pushed her arm inside the auto, holding a note in her hand to read. I tried not to look at this either. All I read in a glance was printed text that said, “I cannot speak. I have no tongue…” She seemed to have this grunt. At least until the driver said something to her in Hindi. And she said something back, also in Hindi. Hmmm… She eventually left us alone and we headed to our next destination.

Sikh Temple Our next stop was the driver’s idea. Gurudwara Bangla Sahib is the most prominent Sikh house of worship in Delhi. It’s so big that it has its own underground parking garage. (And his little auto in a parking spot was too cute.) He then led us inside. and I’m glad he did because I would have not had the slightest clue what to do.

Barefoot and Bandana-ed at Bangla Sahib

The tour guide led us inside the complex, down some stairs and into what appeared to be a large, glass waiting room. Here, we took off our shoes (and socks) and our tour guide tied an orange bandana around both of our heads. I realized we were in the relatively empty “foreigner area” for leaving shoes. Then we walked back out to the entrance. (I felt better when I spotted someone else in an orange bandana.)

There were so many people, I did not even see the outdoor sink at first where the guide said to wash our hands. Well-used bars of soap were provided even. As we walked up the stairs, there was a little dip in one with a pipe spewing out what appeared to be fresh water to step in and cleanse our feet. I stepped in after Chris. Trying not to think about how I was now walking on a surface where thousands of people in wet feet had walked before me, we followed the guide up and into the temple.

Chanting played through speakers and everyone was focused on the gold part in the center where a guy was waving a big feather around and people were making coin donations. I only took a photo when I saw someone else doing the same with their iPhone. We then walked around clockwise (people sitting in various places, facing the center) following the crowd, until we reached the other side and back outdoors. Then we went down to a reflecting pool that was filled – filled – with koi.

On the whole, I found it a pleasant cultural experience. I might start carrying a headscarf for future need. I do appreciate that both men and woman cover their heads (unlike Russian Orthodox churches). It’s uncomfortable when only one gender has to do something obscure.

The next stop was not such a pleasant cultural experience. It appeared to be the obligatory “tourist shop” stop. The tour guide was not too pushy about it. Neither of us were interested. But we walked in anyway. It was all really, really high-end stuff like oriental-style rugs, marble figurines, textiles, and jewelry. We walked out pretty quickly. Hope the dude got his commission anyway.

Hindu Temple Our final stop (about time, you’re thinking) was Laxminarayan Temple. I picked it because it had a pretty mini-drawing on the map. We had to take our shoes off (but not our socks if we didn’t want) and leave our cameras and belongings at the door. (Like at the Sikh temple, we did this in a special room for foreigners only. I suspect they do this to make us feel more comfortable.) It wasn’t super crowded, but we did spot a Chinese tour group and quite a few non-Indians sitting cross-legged in the temple. We could not take any photos inside the temple, like of the cool room in the corner with mirrored walls and a blue statue but luckily, the extensive gardens beyond the temple were not restricted, so we took all sorts of photos on the outside as the sun set and our guide patiently waited.

We saw statues of elephants and cobras primarily. Also spotted a bunny and a monkey statue eating a banana. The fountains were turned off, but the place on the whole was nicely laid out and kid-friendly. Well, kid-friendly meaning fun-for-kids, not necessarily safe for kids. We had a running joke this day: Safety Last. So many places with no railings or signs.

Laxminarayan Temple

I wonder if Capris count?

Got some hiking in!

As we left, on our way back to our auto, there was a guy with a carpet laid out on the sidewalk full of trinkets. One of them – a little plastic autorickshaw – was tempting. A man walked alongside me and tried to interest me in a book on the Delhi-Agra-Jaipur Golden Triangle. The exact same book from the lunch tout!

Last Auto Ride So we asked our tour guide to drop us off at the nearest Blue Line station. He attempted one last “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the tourist information office?” but then dropped us off. We gave him the agreed amount and a nice tip, shook his hand, and he seemed perfectly pleased. The metro was jam packed Tokyo-style, my face almost against the door, surrounded by bodies. But only for one stop. Everyone got off at Rajiv Chowk (I guess to start their weekend partying as we were finishing.) We did a little bargaining at Vaishali as the first guy offered 70. We at least got down to 50. This ride was the most harrowing – and kind of most fun – auto ride I’ve taken so far. He swerved left and right on narrow streets through cars, people, and bicycles. When he spotted a traffic jam ahead, he just drove on the wrong side of the road for a while, no problem (at least following another auto doing the same). Then we pushed our way back in the jam.

We ended up tipping this driver too since he showed Chris where to find beer, cheap and close by. The important stuff. The driver was startled by the tip.

And that was our extremely enjoyable Day In Delhi!

(By request, I’ve taken some more photos of autorickshaws:)

Autorickshaws Galore

Today is a holiday called Basant Panchami, apparently dedicated to the goddess of knowledge and education. Not a lot of people took the day off (at my company, it is one of ten days we can choose to take off out of fourteen religious and national holidays), but people seemed to leave early. We decided to leave early as well (read: on time), making the trip home from work for the first time in an autorickshaw (for $2) and in daylight. Saw the usual cows in the usual spot (amongst the sometimes-burning garbage on the side of an intersection) and am surprised how healthy they look. Will try to get a photo of the cows.

The donkeys, cows, dogs, etc, picking at the corner trash (on my way to work.)

I think some animals have herders that lead them around town. On more than one occasion, I’ve seen a few dozen sheep on the same corner. And sometimes I see the cows all headed down the adjacent road, as if going to the next spot.

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, which they do celebrate here. I got an email in the afternoon saying I had a “courier” waiting for me at the front desk at work. To my utter surprise, it turned out to be a package of chocolates from my dad! Every year it seems, no matter what country I’m living in, and whether or not I have a significant other, I still get chocolates from my dad on February 14th (though I really thought I wouldn’t be getting any this year.) We take chocolate very seriously in our family.

Proof My Dad Rocks

Anyway, the head bobble. I first heard about the Indian head bobble a few months ago from my co-traveler in Russia. She wasn’t kidding! It is like a nod, but it looks more like a “no” than a “yes”, but not even quite that. It looks more like, I hate to say it, a bobble head. The extent of the bobble varies from person to person. Sometimes, it is a slight head side-to-side as if on a Jack-in-the-Box spring. Sometimes it looks like they are shaking their head no. Or maybe doing neck-loosening exercises. I thought the lead role in the cute Indian movie “Well Done, Abba” had some kind of tic, then I realized he was just bobbling his head. At work, the director of development is a bobble-o-rama, but some people hardly do it at all. It is not restricted by gender, both men and women do it equally. If you see something that looks like a vague no, then it is probably just a bobble since Indians rarely shake their head no, or even say no. A bobble means “I see” or “I’m following you” and is just a gesture to show they are listening and taking in what you are saying. Sort of like when we do an occasional slight nod.

Sometimes, I find myself practicing the bobble in private, but when I’m with a real Indian, I end up just more firmly shaking my head as if to make up for the loose-necked bobble.

Many people warned me about “the staring” before I got here. So much so that I expected every head to turn as I walked down the street. It was not as bad as all that. (My preparing for the absolute worst made a lot of things seem “not so bad” when I actually got here.) However, the people that do stare do so unapologetically, exhibiting entire dramatic 180-degree head turns to see the foreign woman go by. Though I suspect that it is like in Japan where everyone notices me and, if they can do so discreetly, take a peek (as I did every time I noticed a non-Japanese person there.) This theory was pretty much proven on a recent morning when I walked into the restaurant where I have my breakfast buffet most mornings. I actually looked up and around at all the tables of the restaurant to see if Chris (who had arrived the previous day) was in the room. Every single person at every table was looking back up at me. Ha! Caught you!

I only really mind the staring because it makes me paranoid, thinking that I’m in a place I shouldn’t be – like a construction zone – or alternately, that I know the person looking and should be saying hello. The only other time I mind is when I’m wearing sweats or having a Bad Hair Day or otherwise want to be invisible.

To make up for all that wholesome culture last weekend, I decided to hit the mall.

The Great India Place

This is not the biggest mall in the National Capital Region according to my co-workers, but it is close. It is one large freaking mall. I walked for at least an hour and I don’t think I saw it all. (The National Capital Region basically includes Delhi and its suburbs.) There were more clothing stores than anything, almost as many for men as for women, which was one surprise, gift shops, restaurants, ice cream stands that no one ever seems to be patronizing, a Hallmark store (with Valentine’s Day Cards still on special), mobile phone stores, coffee shops, shoe stores, and even a place to buy a washing machine. I mention the ice cream stands because several books I have read advise against eating ice cream here (due to the likelihood that it has melted and refrozen with all the power outages) but I see it for sale everywhere. The funny thing is, I have yet to see a single Indian person actually eating any of it. The Baskin Robbins’ stands are empty. I see plenty of Indians eating soft serve, though.

As I strolled, I pondered how people on reputed meager Indian salaries afford to shop at this shiny and clean four-story (!) mecca of consumerism. The prices appeared mostly comparable with back home. I bought a book for $10. My chai latte was about $2.50. I did get some clothes on discount – three pairs of pants and a dress thing (a kurta) for about $20 at a place that reminded me of the clothes section of Target except with more patterns and more intimidation (self-imposed. I don’t even like clothes shopping back home… now I have to worry I bought a pattern that only grandmothers wear.) I’m not going to tell you how much I spent at the Nokia store.

A Little Bit of Boulder in The GIP
(Boulder Prices, too.)

The GIP, besides being a handy acronym to tell autorickshaw drivers, is in Sector 18. Noida is divided into Sectors and Blocks which seems vaguely dystopian, but is one way to organize a city. I work in Sector 62 on the northern border with Ghaziabad. For Google-Earth-philes such as myself, it is very interesting to compare the spread-out-business-park style of Sector 62 to the extremely twisty, crowded “Colony” inhabiting Sector 62A right next door. (The rest of the Sectors fall somewhere in between. Lots of multi-storey apartment complexes.) Anyway, Sector 18 is south of that, along the river on the metro line and is the primary commercial enclave of Noida.

Crossing to Sector 18
Noida

After I’d had enough of the mall, I headed toward the footbridge over the street toward Sector 18 proper. I was approached by two young people holding flowers (either to sell or as decoration on their collecting tins, I couldn’t tell.) I have so far made a point of not giving any street people money, for one because it likely it won’t even go to them, but to their beggar gang leader or whatever. The various books I read touch on this one way or another. One recommended only giving to elderly women since they were probably kicked out of their home when their husband died. Children and cripples are more often being used by more organized forces. I know none of this for sure. But the author of Delirious Delhi made an interesting suggestion to compromise. He said to carry candy, dried fruit, chocolates, or the like with you and give them that when they ask. That way, if you really are being accosted by a starving child, then your conscience is sated somewhat. (And if they aren’t interested in your snack and just want money, then you’ll know for sure that something is afoot.) I decided to take this advice and brought along a small supply. I gave the kids each a pre-wrapped piece of candy. They wanted either more or money instead, but did not press me too much after I side-stepped them for the second time.

Golden Arches in Sector 18

I went to lunch at a place called “Punjabi By Nature” which got pretty good reviews on Google. It’s about two doors down from McDonalds in that picture; you can see the word Punjabi on the sign. Incidentally, I walked into the McDonalds later out of curiosity. No joke, the first thing on the menu is a “McVeggie” and the equivalent of the Big Mac has chicken patties. Anyway, as I was passing the McDonalds, a little girl came up to me with her hand out. I had one last piece of candy (I had, to my own surprise, used the entire supply I brought), so I gave it to her. Then I had lunch.

You know when I said that meal I had at “Chicken” last week would probably be my most expensive lunch here. Nope, broke that record! I had garlic naan, lentil curry, and a lassi. Hit twenty bucks no problem by myself. The service was excellent, though. (I had been worried that, being a single woman, I might be somewhat ignored, but this was not the case here… though it was not very crowded either.) The food was decent enough – I liked the other place a little better – but the serving size was too big. Those were some giant triangles of naan! They wrapped it up for me, I remembered to tip 10%, and was on my way.

More of Sector 18

Passing McDonalds again, suddenly I hear “candy, candy.” (Not “money, money.”) I felt kind of bad because I had no more pieces left. I said “I’m out of candy, but I have some naan” and gave my tinfoil-wrapped leftover naan to the closest girl, no idea if she wanted it or not. It kind of looked like a family was around me at this point, just standing there though, not being particularly intimidating or touching me at all. A mother and baby were part of the various-aged group of four or five anyway. An older boy pointed to my bag with my leftover curry. I was all too happy to part with my leftovers if someone actually was hungry enough to ask for it. There can’t possibly be a leftover food gangster ring, right? They didn’t ask for anything more, didn’t ask about my other bag (which was carrying the book and clothes I bought at the mall), and didn’t follow as I went on my way. It’s kind of a nice feeling to know I might have actually helped a family in need get a hot meal.

On my way back, I tried the Ladies Car for the first time. The first car of every metro is for women only. Aside from the safety factor (not that I’ve felt unsafe in the other cars yet), it is generally less crowded, which is worth it in itself. I saw Tokyo-style crowds again this afternoon, though it seems to vary by train.

The Metro

Not sure if all the auto drivers from Vaishali are creeps or what, though there was an article in the paper that they increased the female police officers at Vaishali station for that reason. The one that drove me this time offered me the highest first price yet (100 rupees) for what I’ve been paying 40-50 rupees for. His peeps (not sure why the auto drivers have peeps… but it seems like there are always three to five people negotiating one fare) included one older man who agreed pretty quickly to go down to fifty. My driver looked about eighteen and tried to get my attention after I stepped out (I stepped out early because I needed to go food shopping and he didn’t know where he was going anyway, but I paid him the requisite 50.) Not sure if he was looking for a tip or trying to hit on me or what (dude, I’m practically old enough to be the guy’s mother) but he gave up pretty quickly. Glad I have the “I’m white, I don’t understand Hindi” excuse.

Ah ha! There are two types of Tropicana! The junk, which has a fun variety of flavors like the above but is basically sugar water (better than HFCS water?) with a smidgeon of juice, and the 100% juice stuff with less fun flavors, but is actual juice. And, look it is not expired after all! I forgot I need to read the dates day-month-year. Supermarket woes you probably didn’t care about, but look, lychee-flavored juice.

Well, I have now been here one month. My original tube of Burt’s Bees chapstick, my original stick of deodorant, and my original package of floss have all lasted me the entire month without running out, despite that I use all three quite liberally. Perhaps my supply of stuff I’m picky about will last me after all. And I have still not gotten sick yet which must be some stroke of luck.

I was here when the guy who changes out my 20L drinking water replaced my supply… he apparently can’t turn the container over without getting his hands all completely wet with the same water going into my water dispenser. EWWW. (I think he thought my involuntary gasps of horror were just from him getting water on the floor and counter. Um, no. ) Chris had the same experience (and a similar reaction, so I feel less like I’m being a whiny germophobe.) On one hand, I kind of wish I did not know how much of my clean, filtered drinking water has touched some guy who doesn’t look like he washes his hands regularly. Then I would never know. On the other hand, now I am having trouble drinking it. I might just write a note and ask him to leave the sealed bottle and I’ll do it myself. I mean, I wouldn’t want to drink water that had touched my own hands in India. I mean, seriously. I have actually completely cold turkey stopped biting my nails since the day I arrived (…and this, ladies and gentlemen is how you get your bad habits and minor OCD tendencies to work for you. My nails haven’t looked this good in years.)

Incidentally, he took my two unopened bottles of water, as if in return, even though he doesn’t work for the hotel who provided them. WTF? Is he so broke he can’t afford drinking water? Except that he can apparently afford a cell phone (he took a call before he changed the water.) Random.

Statue of Maharani Laxmi Bai
Heroine of the Indian Rebellion

I took a walk on Sunday to find this park that I saw on Google Earth. Just blocks away from my apartment, on the other side of construction, there it was. Satellites don’t lie. I had to walk all the way around the wall surrounding “Swarna Jayanti Park” to find the entrance and pay the 5-rupee fee, but it was worth the search. A beautifully laid-out park, not crowded at all, with lots of statues. And the statues: every last one of them including the horse-rearing one are of women. My journey (that took me down to Shipra Mall; have added photo of it to my Crazy Pink Pants entry) is also evidence that I am adjusting to walking down a sidewalk-less Indian street, sharing with honking cars, auto rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, and motorcycles. As Chris points out, the real secret is No Sudden Lateral Movements.

Google Earth Finds:
Swarna Jayanti Park

I finally had to pay my bill. My rent at my serviced apartment (which does include utilities, slow internet, fuzzy cable, free breakfast, use of the nice fitness center with stationary bikes and ellipticals, drinking water, a mediocre but English newspaper, and a daily cleaning with towel and sheet replacements) is about $1300/month. Which works out to $40/day. Not the best deal ever. But it could be worse. I’m not sure if it is worth it to try to find a cheaper place as this place is extraordinarily convenient.

So I now have my shiny PAN card, my crinkly FRRO sheet, and an ATM card for an Axis bank account that won’t have my name on it until next week (I could log into the account, but could not change anything.) I also have a phone and SIM card finally but that won’t be activated until next week either. Processes are long here…

Chillin’ Cows in My Neighborhood

Starting tomorrow, my taxi will pick me and Chris up one hour earlier from work… so, a normal amount of working hours now. I am not sure quite why I originally scheduled it for a just-under-10-hour work day instead of 9. Paranoia about getting work done, I suppose. But this will be better because I can beat the rush to the fitness center (since most Indians work on a much later schedule than I.) But, hey, Die Hard 5 is coming out this weekend. Finally, a movie in English in one of the two movie theatres within walking distance.

And what do you know, I did find something cheap here. Movies only cost around $3!

My excursion today was to Lotus Temple (a Baha’i temple in south Delhi.) I did something with autorickshaws today that I’ve never done before: I just hopped in after confirming my destination then paid at the end what I thought was fair/generous. (Chris suggested this, actually.) I did it twice today. Neither time did I hear any complaints… this will save time if it continues to work. Either that or it is a sign I’m paying too much.

Can’t Possibly Miss That… Right?

You can see Lotus Temple from the metro. It is a unique and large structure, hard to miss. For an interesting cultural experience, I recommend going the wrong way after exiting the station. Kalkaji Mandir (the closest metro station to Lotus, according to the internet) only has one exit and only three directions you can go from the exit. But it has no signs to point you the way and you cannot actually see Lotus from the exit. One path that encouragingly reads “Pedestrian Entrance” leads to a nondescript Hindu temple (more accurately, the place you take off your shoes); another involves going through a back gate that says “Pass Entry Only” but isn’t and dumps you on a street which leads to a road to two other small Hindu temples. (We are clearly in a very spiritual neighborhood.) These temples, though, appear to be only used by locals; they are not large nor impressive nor anything you’d find on the tourist circuit. Which is probably why 1: I was not hassled by a single tout, beggar, or auto driver, and 2: there were not any other tourists there. I felt very out of place, but people did not seem to care that I was there; they were busy doing their own religious thing. Very interestingly, I did see three transient people who all looked in really bad shape as I walked. And I saw all three of them being given food from people around them, whether some kind of dough ball or little white seeds. None of the transients were aggressive (though one took up half the stairs) and none asked me for anything.

Traffic Near Kalkaji Metro Station
(Found this cool street-crossing overlook between temples while wandering around lost)

I finally turned back to the station and just asked someone in uniform. They politely pointed me back out the exit, but then up the street in the opposite direction. Sure enough, it was obvious after I crossed the parking lot and started walking up the bus-lined street. Once I could see the temple, the trick was finding the entrance. I walked along the sidewalk next to the temple grounds, a wall and waist-high barbed wire (maybe meant to keep out dogs?) on my left and soon, hordes of school children streaming the opposite direction on my right. They were pretty cute and overcame my grumpy mood. I tried to keep from running into them while also avoiding the barbed wire as well as the people selling stuff on the sidewalk. Many of the kids said, “hello” or “hi” or “goodbye”. I greeted them in return, though did not shake hands with the proffered hands, partially because they were walking too fast, but partially because I’m an OCD germophobe. All were in a school uniform; some were barefoot, but that might have just been because they were doing a temple trip. One teacher (I think) stopped in front of me suddenly and took her photo with me. At first, I backed off, thinking she was trying to take a photo of something else, but then I realized that she wanted a photo with the foreigner. Seemed pretty harmless, so I smiled and waved.

I finally reached the entrance. Right next to it was the “HoHo” bus, the tourist bus of Delhi where you can “Hop on Hop off”. I was mostly thinking, “You guys missed all the culture,” though I had earlier considered taking the bus and may have if it had not been going to places I’d seen already. The entrance had another metal detector that I’m pretty sure doesn’t do anything. And the contents of my purse were looked at. Then I was allowed onto the grounds; no entrance fee. Later, there was the Shoe Place. You put your shoes in a bag then give your bag to one of the men in a room under the bridge (very blended into the landscape, the shoe dudes were) and get a little wooden chip with a number, then off you go to explore Lotus.

Lotus Temple
(The Baha’i go barefoot as well here)

I want to state categorically that I hate taking off my shoes. There is no logical reason I hate it so much, it is just pure OCD fastidiousness. I like to have clean feet that never touch anything at all. If I’m not in shoes, I’m always in socks or slippers. But, for these places, I prefer to take off my socks. I figure if I get my socks dirty, they will make my shoes dirty which will then make all future pairs of socks dirty. And I can always bite the bullet and just wash my feet later. See the troubles I face? However, it was not too bad at Lotus because the barefoot vs. shod places were separated and the barefoot places appeared to be clean (though I know other people’s feet are not as clean as mine…)

The grounds were lovely, but I finally got in line with everyone else to go inside the temple. Indian lines are much closer and tighter than anything back home. People are pretty much touching. The personal space sphere is much smaller out here. If I stand my normal comfortable distance away, then people cut in front of me half the time. They’re not doing this to be rude because I’m sure if I saw someone that, from my version of personal space, was standing too far back, I might cut in front of them, too. The woman behind me was particularly pushy; she kept bumping against me. (A woman had her shopping cart right up against my back the other day at the supermarket.) Interestingly, it is the women who I notice being invasive of my American-style personal space more than guys.

Side By Side
Lotus Temple and Sydney Opera House

Inside the temple was the antithesis of outside. Quiet (no mobile phone usage, photo taking, nor talking was allowed) and space. There was a lot of seating and they only let in a few at a time, so I could have almost a whole row to myself if I wanted. And they let you have as much time as you wanted inside to just sit or meditate. I had very nice quiet time, decompressing from pushy woman. Though, like at the Akshardam (another free and beautiful temple), I got the vague feeling I was being sold this religion, even though Baha’i is sort of an inclusive-of-all style thing that might be something I’m interested in. But I didn’t pick up the pamphlets nor listen to the schpiels outside, though noticed that the people giving the schpiels were not Indian.

So I exited the Lotus complex, intending to check out a nearby temple I read about on the internet called ISKCON, a Hare Krishna temple, and, knowing how lost I got trying to find the entrance of Lotus, I decided to take an autorickshaw driver up on his offer. He said, “60” and I’m like, “look, I can see the temple right there, it’s not far,” so he said, “50” ($1) and I’m like, “40” and he said “okay, 40.” I should have known something was off right there. When I got into the auto, he started saying something that I didn’t quite grasp until I heard the words “tourist shop.” Um. No. My purpose in taking the autorickshaw is to save time and hassle. Bringing me to a tourist shop defeats both those purposes. (At least he had the courtesy to tell me before he took off.) I stepped out immediately, muttering, “never mind, I’ll find it myself.” And I did, despite the calls of “madam, wait” and “what happened?”. It wasn’t too hard to find after all; there was only one other entrance through the wall. (Incidentally, on my way back up the sidewalk, someone tried to interest me in that SAME book about the Delhi-Agra-Jaipur Golden Triangle.)

On Hare Krishna Hill
(The sign on the top makes it look like it is the corporate headquarters)

Turns out that, although the building complex was open, the interior of the ISKCON temple itself with its very cool architecture, was closed. I really wish the shoe guy had told me that, because this was like my shoe nightmare. Shod and unshod places mixed together, the ground was all dusty and dirty… and occasionally wet. And the shoe guy didn’t give me a number or anything. I guess he had my shoes memorized? Not confidence inspiring. But I got them back later no big deal. But a waste of dirty feet!

I wandered down a pleasant park with people enjoying their Saturday and found my way back to the Nehru Place business area vaguely looking for lunch. All I saw were American-style fast food places and just-above-street-food joints. I wanted something in between I guess. I walked into an interesting crowded market that I knew must be upscale because it was tiled and spacious in the center, though in other respects did not look very upscale at all, with the tight store quarters and simple signboards. A man behind me said, “madam, laptop repair, madam, laptop repair.” I said, “I don’t have a laptop, do I,” finding his words odd… until I realized that the great majority of shops in this market said Laptop Repair. I guess this is where you go to fix your laptop. Honestly, if my laptop did break… I don’t know if I’d bring it here. I wouldn’t know where to choose for starters.

I took the metro back up to the center of town (mostly using the ladies car and enjoying the less-crowded aspect… and seeing more foreigners in this area of Delhi than in other areas; I think this section of town – more specifically Kailash – is popular with expats) and wandered around, eventually eating at a place called YWCA Global Cuisine. It was fine. Nothing special, except that it met my standards and appeared just when I was getting really hungry. Though expensive. Over $10. I am beginning to think that not much is actually cheap in India if you are comparing apples to apples. Sure you can GET food cheaper, but you have to risk your health to do so. You want a restaurant that appears clean and has a menu and attentive waiters, you are paying the big bucks.

I intended on checking out the Qutab Minar, but with my slow start this morning, the long distance to Lotus that included two subway line transfers, and all my extraneous wandering, it was already 5:30pm, almost sunset, and the site was at least half an hour away. Next time. In any case, when it is daylight, you get a nice view from the metro (once it gets out of the underground central part). At one point, I was looking over a sea of dusty pastel-colored 3-5 story buildings with cell phone towers sticking up at intervals going back to the horizon.

Warnings and Ads on the Delhi Metro

Getting an auto back from Vaishali station is starting to become my least favorite part of weekend excursions to Delhi. To make it creepier? The second I walked out of Vaishali today, drivers started saying “Cabana, Cabana,” instead of “auto, auto” so I guess I must be the only foreigner in this part of town if they all know where I live. Not that it does them a lot of good, but it’s definitely not making me feel more comfortable. I said “I’m not having very good luck with auto drivers here” and kept walking. I actually intended to find a bicycle rickshaw (just because I haven’t tried one yet, and a person pedaling has got to be too busy for any funny stuff) but I settled for the dude that looked over 30 and got my attention seconds before the bicycle rickshaw driver did (and didn’t even know what Cabana was). And, indeed, this ride was the least weird. I’m going to start saying “Aditya” (the nearby shopping center) I think as a destination and stay with that over-30 rule perhaps. Or just make a point of not taking any of the aggressive drivers who meet me outside the station.

Number of chocolates given away: 4. (I would have given 5 had I realized that the little boy (or girl?) whom I’d just given one was saying they wanted one for their sibling. I just heard something like merebaika, merebaika, over and over which was just gibberish to me until I recalled from Pimsleur that mere means “my” so he/she was probably saying “for my brother” or “for my sister”. Didn’t realize that until I’d already escaped to the metro, though. I actually did give money for the first time today – just a few rupees – to an elderly lady sitting by the gate near a different metro. She did not pester me nor were there any other beggars around. A nearby well-off couple had just given the lady some of their food. She looked legit and I did not get suddenly swamped with people which, besides encouraging beggar gangs, is another main drawback to giving money.

On an unrelated note: I now have a working phone! Hopefully, this means no more waiting outside for my evening taxi. I also now have clean feet again.

I got my official Employee badge yesterday, yay! It has my photo and, for some reason, my birth date. I no longer have a visitor badge with the big letter “V” on it (like I’m an alien from the 1980s.) Also, the CTOs from the global offices have been visiting the last few days, so it has been eventful at work. We had an activity where all the various development teams did a short presentation (make-something-out-of-cardboard-style) on What They Do. In a rare fit of social behavior, I actually went and chatted with everyone, learned about the cool stuff we do here, and took photos. Very fun! And it answered people’s curiosity about who the foreign woman wandering around the office is.

Pretending I’m giving our team’s nifty presentation
(but I could never do it as well as Deadpan)

Last night, we had a development team outing with the CTOs at a fancy hotel called Park Ascent. I looked it up on the map; it is right on the border with the mysterious sector 62A. I tried to get a glimpse of the twisty, curvy streets – I did see quite a few people in the area – but too quickly, we were pulling into the entrance drive with valet parking. As we ate appetizers (meat – mutton and chicken – were on the menu and there was an open bar! I guess they know what foreigners like…), I said to my co-workers, “It is amazing that, just on the spot, they arranged a dinner for over 100 people!” Then I checked myself and said, “Wait, I’m in India. The place where every wedding consists of multiple several-hundred-person events.” My co-workers laughed and LeadingMan agreed, “Yeah for just a hundred, we don’t even bother planning.” Indeed, the gathering reminded me of the wedding-related ones. The tables with tablecloths and the chairs with… chair cloths. Servers wandering around with appetizers on toothpicks and multi-colored soda trays. The requisite all-appetizers-at-once table and the dinner buffet not opening until almost 9pm. (I think they began early because we started lining up for it.) But the waiters here were quite friendly and some spoke English even.

I sat at a table with my paneer appetizer (paneer in Hindi means, I believe, CHEESE OMG YUM CHEESE!) and a couple CTOs sat at the same table and we chatted (yay, someone to babble at). I was relating the story of the overly-friendly autorickshaw shotgun rider, while a muzak rendition of Gangsta’s Paradise played over the speakers, but was very often interrupted by the men with serving trays. I supposed it was their job, but seriously, I didn’t want any more appetizers, so stop tempting me with the paneer already. Someone – the head waiter I think – approached the table and said, “Excuse me, ma’am, what would you like?” For the sixth time, I said, “Nothing, thank you.” then I suddenly understood. During my story, I had been stabbing the table to gesture. They assumed it meant I was trying to signal the attention of a waiter! D’oh. The British man across from me said, “Oh, does that work?” then he tapped the side of his empty Kingfisher bottle. “Another beer?” And the response was immediate.

(totally stole this image)

So today, they finally installed the software image on our computers so we’ll all have the requisite software and settings to do full-on Development. This meant that my computer was away from my desk (the monitor and power cords attached to empty air) the whole afternoon. It was actually a convenient day for the Axis bank representatives to suddenly drop by and explain that they had mistakenly opened a regular savings account for me instead of a “special foreigner account” just after I’ve finally gotten a paycheck. It’ll take “several weeks” to transfer. Great. This is a couple days after the message I got from payroll in the U.S. saying, “Whoops, we’ve been paying you when we shouldn’t and we’ll need that all back.” Good thing I have savings.

Besides the two bank visits (two because I had filled in my name Last First Middle instead of First Middle Last; the application did not specify which other than to show an example Indian name, which did not clarify), the CTOs had plenty of presentations on the roster luckily that I could kill time with while waiting for my computer. During a lull, some people on my team – also with missing computers – had gathered in the Game Room.

“Carrom” where the Queen Chip is the 8-Ball

I totally forgot we had a Game Room. I saw it on the tour on my first day, then promptly forgot about it. I learned a game today called Carrom. LeadingMan couldn’t believe I’d never heard of it before. Luckily, the rules are almost exactly the same as billiards / snooker. A large white chip, the striker, is the cue ball. Bank shots are permissible as you flick chips into the corner pockets. Two colors of chips like the solid/striped balls are what you aim for. A special Queen chip that goes in second-to-last is like the 8-ball. You can indeed become skilled at this as SmartNoob demonstrated, kicking all of our butts. Us foreigners managed one pocket apiece against the experts.

Game Room
Not pictured: Five of us doing acrobatics in front of the screen playing “Kinect Adventures”.

I impressed my co-workers today with my absolutely perfectly accented “Mein Hindi nahi samachti hoon.” (“I don’t understand Hindi.”) Being able to say that well is counter-productive to my cause however. So I said it purposely less skillfully to the tiny ladies room attendant, who has spoken to me a few times – not even a single word of English thrown in for me to make an educated guess as to what she could possibly be telling me. I think she understood, but couldn’t help continuing to speak in Hindi anyway. I’ll have to see if I can grab someone to translate next time.

They changed our office coffee machine today to “Nescafe” from “Cafe Coffee Day”. Wow, the excitement. Actually, the only excitement was not having caffeine during said changeover and almost taking a nap on the beanbag chairs in the Game Room.